Rot
by CitrusVeins
Summary: Bakugou felt sick. He felt useless and confused and scared. He wanted Kirishima to stay. He wanted to go back to his apartment, spend hours aimlessly rambling until there was nothing left to say, but he couldn't. The pain inside of him bloomed through every inch of his body, and it rotted everything it touched. He didn't want Kirishima to rot with him.


He had been on edge for weeks and it felt like his world was ripping at the seams. Every time he tried to hold onto something, it slipped through his fingers like sand and all Bakugou could do was watch as it fell away. He couldn't stop it. He hated that he couldn't stop it.

Kirishima called his name from somewhere behind him and the bitter taste of anger rolled up from his chest and into his throat, head throbbing in time with the bruises on his knuckles. He didn't look over his shoulder, he didn't call back, and he didn't stop walking. But Kirishima was determined, and Kirishima was fast, and maybe there was some disgusting thought lurking inside of Bakugou that wanted Kirishima to catch up to him as he stalked down the street. The rotten, fucked up part of him needing a new victim.

A hand gripped his elbow, hard enough to stop his stride, and immediately sparks lit up under his skin - itching and crawling at the contact. He ripped his arm away roughly, rounding on Kirishima so quickly that his head spun. "_ Don't _touch me. Do not fucking touch me." Was he shaking? He felt like he was vibrating; his whole body trembling with pent up energy needing to escape. The rage coiled inside of him, pressing against his skin uncomfortably in a desperate effort to get out, and if it had been anyone other than Kirishima reaching out, the anger would've manifested violently.

"What the fuck was that?" Kirishima asked, the tone firm and accusatory, and it sent Bakugou's walls flying up. Bakugou could probably count the times he had seen Kirishima really and truly mad on one hand. Even now, with the red eyes glaring into him, the brows furrowed in frustration, Kirishima didn't look completely pissed. He looked concerned and that felt like another stab to the chest. "They were _worried _about you and you went and punched Denki in the face?"

"He was bein—"

"_You're _being an asshole, dude. _You _are," Kirishima countered before Bakugou could finish his sentence. Bakugou felt cornered all over again. A sharp laugh tore itself from his throat, full of venom and lacking even the slightest ounce of amusement. Something quiet tugged at the back of his mind, pleading himself to stop - to shut up and cool off and let things _go _. His mouth was working on auto-pilot, replacing the physical assault with a verbal one simply because it was _Kirishima _standing in front of him.

"_Wow _! Am I?" Bakugou bit out, arms outstretched as his voice dripped with sarcasm. "It's almost like that's who I am! It's _almost _like that's how I've always been! Where the fuck have you been, Kirishima?" The anger and frustration were leaving Kirishima's face, and it made Bakugou's body seize with panic. He _wanted _Kirishima mad - it gave him an excuse to fight and yell. It gave him a reason to act like this. With Kirishima remaining calm and not retaliating, it changed the scathing remarks from defense to outright attacking.

_To a tantrum_, his mind taunted. _Like a child_.

"Your friends care about you." Fire flooded Bakugou's veins at those words. He was suddenly too hot despite the cold air outside and he felt closed in despite the empty street surrounding him.

"They're not my fucking friends!" It was a pain in his throat that made him realize that he had replied. It felt raw, and the strain in his voice was evident and grating even to his ears. Kirishima gave him that _look_. That knowing _look _. That patient look, that concerned look, that look everyone had on their faces as soon as he had walked into that fucking restaurant. If they were his friends, they wouldn't pity him like that. They wouldn't have _looked _at him like that - like he was weak. They wouldn't _worry _when clearly nothing was wrong.

_He was fine, he was fine, he was fine_.

He just needed to be alone. He needed to force the crumbling pieces of his life back together, by himself, like he always had. His throat ached when he started to speak again, his voice low and dangerous, "I don't have friends. I don't _need _friends."

Kirishima raised his hands slowly in front of him, trying to placate the anger radiating from the blonde. "Okay, okay…" His voice had shifted into something more calming, something reassuring. He was trying to get Bakugou to calm down - to _break _down - to admit defeat and cave and spill out every single fucked up detail about himself. Betrayal sank deep into his bones.

Kirishima had brought him there to meet their "friends." Kirishima was always trying to crack him open and share and talk and _feel _. Kirishima was always trying to make him _vulnerable _and _weak _. He was the one who praised him even if he failed, who assured him despite his insecurities, who didn't care about how _pathetic _and _disgusting _and _worthless _and—

_Shut up, shut up, shut up! _

Kirishima knew how much Bakugou could hurt and he used it against him.

"I don't need you either." He could feel his heart lurch in protest when Kirishima's expression shifted again. He had tried to cover it up quickly, he tried to keep his brave, calming, kind, patient, _backstabbing_, loyal demeanor, but it slipped. It had slipped only a fraction, but it was enough for the vileness inside of Bakugou to see the pain beneath the surface and latch on.

"Can we ju—"

"I don't _need _you," Bakugou said it again, harsher this time, without a tremor in his voice. He clenched his jaw and locked his eyes on Kirishima's. His heart was pounding rapidly against his ribcage and his head was swimming with confusion and anger and pain, but he held firm. And he continued. Because he was vindictive. Because he was fucked up. Because doing this kept everyone away and it worked and it kept him alone. Things weren't as complicated and scary when he was alone. "Did you think you were the exception?"

"Kats…" Kirishima looked down at his feet now, unable to look at him. His mask had broken. Bakugou's fists shook at his sides and his eyes flashed dangerously as he thought about how breakable the _unbreakable _hero really was. "Don't."

"Did you think you were, what? Special?" Kirishima _flinched _at the words and it only fuelled Bakugou more. "I'm not your fucking charity case! If you thought you could fix me or magically change my whole outlook on life, you're fucking wrong. You didn't change _shit._"

Kirishima's eyes flicked back up to his and Bakugou could see the sheen the tears threatening to fall. "Don't say that." Bakugou wanted to see those tears fall. He needed to see them fall. He needed crush Kirishima down before he crushed him.

"I tolerate you," He hissed, sneering. Kirishima shook his head stubbornly and averted his eyes again almost immediately. His breath hitched a few times in an effort to compose himself, and when he did, he looked up again - eyes still wet, but _determined. _

Kirishima took in a shaking breath. "Please don't say that, Bakugou…"

"I tolerate you just like I tolerate all of them."

"Don't fucking say that!" The outburst was unexpected, the volume of Kirishima's yell almost matching Bakugou's. The tears were falling now and it made Bakugou's stomach churn with guilt or happiness or fear - he couldn't tell anymore. Kirishima shook his head as though he was trying to clear his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut to scrub at them roughly. "Bakugou," he said quietly after a moment, voice so small that it felt like yet another knife was stabbing into Bakugou's chest. "I don't know what's wrong," he continued, lifting his head up but still not making eye contact, "I don't know what happened these last few weeks and I don't know how to help you." Bakugou bristled at those words, and tiny pops of explosions danced along his palms threateningly.

"I don't _need _help! I'm not weak!"

"I didn't say you were fucking weak!" Kirishima shot back and this time he was angry. This time he was glaring at Bakugou with heated eyes. "Just shut up and _listen _to me! I'm saying you're in pain! I'm _saying _that you're hurting! I'm saying that I want to fucking help you because I care about you!" Kirishima opened his mouth again, taking in a breath like he wanted to say more, but clicked it shut. The anger came rushing out of him after a moment and he shook his head sadly, unsure how to continue. "Why is it so hard for you to let someone love you?"

Bakugou felt sick. He felt useless and confused and scared. He wanted Kirishima to stay. He wanted to go back to his apartment, spend hours aimlessly rambling until there was nothing left to say, but he couldn't. The pain inside of him bloomed through every inch of his body, and it rotted everything it touched.

He didn't want Kirishima to rot with him.

"Leave me alone," Bakugou's voice was softer than he wanted. "I could not be more serious, Kirishima. Leave me alone."

"I can't leave you like this," Kirishima rasped out, his mouth set in a firm line. "I won't."

Bakugou could feel that annoying burn in his eyes, so he ducked his head and shoved Kirishima aside before the tears could escape.

"Then you're wasting your own fucking time."


End file.
